The Mad Prince
by ladymacbeth99
Summary: When Odin dies, Loki does not merely succumb to madness. He embraces it. One-shot, post-TDW. (Warning for brief reference to a suicide attempt.)


_When Thor uncovered Loki's deception, his mind went blank with rage and single-minded purpose. Though the false king of Asgard fought back, Thor had him pinned to the throne room floor in moments, hands around his neck._

 _"What have you done with him?" When Loki did not respond, he shook him violently. "Tell me where Father is before I break every bone in your body," he growled._

 _A trickle of blood ran from Loki's nose, but he seemed unaware of the danger he was in._

 _"He wouldn't wake up," he said in a small voice, as if that explained everything. Tears escaped the corners of his eyes. "He–he wouldn't wake up, Thor."_

 _Dread settled in the pit of Thor's stomach and started to cool the rage in his blood. Still glowering darkly at him, he yanked Loki back onto his feet and demanded, "Show me where he is."_

 _Loki led him to an in-between place–a fold in the fabric of reality, where he stowed things in secret–and there the All-Father lay on a bed, apparently in the Odinsleep. Yet as Thor examined him more closely, he knew something was wrong: the golden threads of restorative magic were weaving together sluggishly, feebly, and the usually-lustrous magic was dull and tarnished._

 _When he brought his father to the sickrooms, the healers informed him, as gently as they could, "He will not awaken from this, Prince Thor. He is only barely holding on, now."_

 _"Was he–poisoned? What happened? How did Loki–" The words caused bile to rise up in Thor's throat, and he couldn't continue the thought._

 _"He was not killed, My Prince. Your father had a weak heart. He knew that he did not have much time left." Seeing Thor's shock, the healer added apologetically, "He ordered us to keep the knowledge to ourselves. He was quite adamant on that point."_

 _Suddenly, many things made sense to Thor–his disastrously premature coronation, for one–but it pained him to think of Odin struggling to set Asgard's affairs in order, trying to secure his kingdom's future and his family's stability, all the while carrying this secret alone._

 _"You are certain he is dying of natural causes? That someone could not have simply made it appear that way?"_

 _He had to be sure._

 _"My Prince, I would not give you this diagnosis if I were not certain. It's possible that a great shock of some kind pushed him to the brink, but he was already under a great strain after the queen's death."_

 _A great shock… Suspicions swirled in Thor's mind, but he would deal with Loki later._

 _He dismissed the healers so that he could be alone with Odin. He clasped the limp, withered hands in his calloused ones and assured the fading king, "It's alright now, Father. I will take care of things, I promise. No more shirking my responsibilities. You can let go, Father, it's alright. You can rest now."_

 _Later that night, the All-Father breathed his last. Only then did Thor allow himself to break._

* * *

Three Hundred Years Later

Thor approaches the tower by air skiff–it's the only feasible way to reach it, as it juts directly out of the roiling sea, five hundred stories of slick stone that is impossible to climb up or down. Only the top ten floors are actually occupied, and there is a dock for the rare visitor's skiff.

When Thor lands, one of the attendants meets him to take his seawater-drenched cloak and leads him inside. Even within, the stone corridors are damp and gloomy, and he can still hear the roar of the sea even from this height–it takes a moment for Thor's senses to adjust after coming from the bright golden palace.

"How does he, this week? Any news?" Thor asks briskly.

The attendant must jog to keep pace with Thor's hasty strides up the spiral stairs. "No changes to report, My King," she says, "but he will be grateful for your visit, of course."

The healer is pale and thin, and seems eager to speak with Thor; unsurprising, considering how isolated this post is, and how seldom these healers have contact with the outside world. Thor makes a mental note to raise their wages when he returns to the palace.

"And the task I commissioned you with? Have you been successful?" he ascertains.

"I…believe so, My King, though I have not had the opportunity of testing it," she hedges. "You know he will never take this willingly."

She pulls out a tiny vial of clear liquid from her apron pocket, which Thor examines.

"This draught will suppress the hallucinations?" he asks. "Truly?"

"It should, My King. But as I have said, Prince Loki will never–"

"Aye. I understand. Leave it to me," he assures her with a small smile, tucking it away into his pocket.

Thor pauses outside of his brother's quarters, watching through the one-way window before entering. It is a convincing facsimile of the rooms Loki had once occupied in the palace, from the elegant four-poster bed to the musty books crammed onto the shelves–but if one were to pull back the heavy drapes, it would become apparent that they are well outside the city limits, miles out to sea, and that the fog obscures the distant skyline more often than not.

But Loki tends to see whatever he wants to see.

There are two place settings on the sitting room table, two steaming cups of fragrant elven tea, but one sits untouched. Loki is speaking animatedly with an empty chair.

Thor's heart sinks. He had been doing so much better lately, seeming lucid more often than not, and Thor had begun to hope–well, it was foolish to get his hopes up.

"Good afternoon, Loki," he says with false cheer, striding into the room.

"Thor." Loki's eyes brighten, genuinely pleased to see him. "I hope you can stay for tea? I'll get another cup."

"Thank you." Thor sits, watching Loki carefully. "Has…has Father been to see you lately?"

He wants to ascertain if today is a Good Day or a Bad Day. When Loki receives visits from Odin, they argue fiercely, and he withdraws into his dark, unpredictable moods–even though their father has been dead for nearly three hundred years.

How nice it must be, to be able to deny the truth so completely that reality rewrites itself in your head, Thor thinks with no little acrimony.

But Loki shakes his head. "He leaves me in peace, these days. Thankfully." He frowns as he pours a cup of tea for Thor. "Don't be rude, brother. Aren't you going to say hello to Mother? She's come all this way."

"Hello, Mother," Thor mumbles, glancing at the empty chair across from him.

Sometimes it's easier to indulge Loki, but he hates playing along. It seems so macabre, listening to one-sided conversations with Frigga, pretending that she's here. Surely it isn't helping Loki find his way out of his madness.

Thor had thought that binding Loki's magic, all those years ago, would be enough to bring him to his senses–but Loki had clung to his delusions with such pertinacity that his mind supplied the illusions without any external help.

They have a pleasant enough tea together. They discuss the book that Thor loaned him last week. Feeling somewhat guilty as he does so, Thor asks for some advice about the palace budget; Loki looks it over, eager to put his mind to good use, and offers some strategies for using funds more efficiently.

The exchange leaves Thor swallowing back tears. His brother is still clever, despite his madness–his mind is sharp, even if it has warped.

Every now and then, Loki chuckles at a joke that Thor cannot hear, or responds to a question that "Mother" directs at him, and Thor almost cannot bear to listen.

"Loki, may I have another cup of tea?"

When Loki gets up from the table to fetch the teapot, Thor empties the vial of potion into Loki's cup. It's a sleight of hand that Loki himself would be proud of.

He watches Loki warily after he returns to the table and takes another sip of tea, but there is no discernible effect.

That is, until a few minutes later, when Loki looks around the room, eyes widening in alarm. "Did–did you see where Mother went? She wouldn't leave without saying goodbye–would she?"

Under the table, Thor's hand clenches around the vial.

 _He doesn't see her anymore–it's working!_

"Perhaps she stepped out to give us some privacy while we catch up," Thor says carefully.

"Oh yes–that must be it. She is thoughtful that way."

But Loki does not seem entirely convinced; his fingers drum the edge of the table in agitation. He gets upset when his delusions are called into question–violent, even, on some occasions. Thor hopes he will not need the second vial–filled with sedative–but he has learned over the years that it is best to be prepared.

Since his confinement here, Loki has become mostly harmless–trapped in his own indulgent fantasies, in which their parents are still alive–but every so often, he rebels. Though this tower was designed to make escape impossible, Loki has tested that. The deep angry scar on Thor's neck is a testament to the first fruitless attempt.

The scars across the insides of Loki's wrists are evidence of his ninth escape attempt.

Loki stands abruptly. "Thor, where am I? Don't lie." His voice is sharp and his eyes are suspicious.

"What do you mean? This is your–"

"This is not my room," he snaps. He strides to the wall behind the door and runs a hand across it. "In my room, there's a dent here, from all the times you've burst in unannounced and sent the door slamming into the wall. I gave up trying to repair it. But it's gone now." Turning back, he glares at Thor. "So do not try to fool me. Where am I, really?"

Trying to be gentle, Thor takes him by the upper arm and leads him onto the balcony outside. Shows him the steep drop to the violent iron sea below. Shows him the two moons barely visible through the veil of fog, so that he can see they are still in Asgard.

Loki's face is white with horror. "Griðastaður," he whispers. "So it is a real place, then."

Every child that grows up in Asgard hears tales about this impenetrable fortress, where the insane are stowed out of sight.

"What am I doing in a madhouse?" Loki demands. "Is this how the All-Father intends to dismiss me–by declaring me insane?"

Thor suppresses a groan. At least Loki seems lucid, aware, but it seems much of their progress has backpedaled.

"Father is dead, Loki."

Loki laughs, but there is an edge of hysteria in it. "You're lying. This is vengeance, for the time that I told you Father was dead–isn't it? Well I have never been as gullible as you, brother."

But as Loki wanders the chambers, seemingly in a trance, collecting himself, realization slowly dawns on him. He touches the gray hairs that have appeared at Thor's temples, examines his own reflection in the mirror, runs a hand through the single silver streak in his raven hair. Stress has aged them prematurely.

"How…how long have I…"

He collapses into sobs, his knees give way and he physically crumples onto a nearby window seat.. Thor knows he remembers now what he has lost. What he has done.

"You made her disappear, didn't you?" he says through clenched teeth.

"Yes," Thor admits. "The healers gave me a potion to make the illusions go away."

"Well, you will not give it to me _ever again_."

"You've been making so much progress lately. I merely wanted to help you along."

"Please, Thor." His voice breaks pathetically. "I have to see her."

Thor runs a hand through his hair in frustration. "Loki. All I want is for you to be well again, so that I can take you home. But I cannot help you if you don't even _try_ to improve."

Loki will not look at him, even as Thor's nails dig into his shoulder.

Thor does not want to resent his brother for his madness, but sometimes it's painfully difficult. After all, he has lost a mother and father too, and he has had to deal with it alone–he couldn't grieve with Loki if Loki refused to accept it had ever happened. And here in this gilded cage, Loki is missing everything, while Thor struggles to rule Asgard wisely without a trusted advisor.

He missed Thor's wedding, almost a decade ago. Most of the time, Loki does not even remember being told of it. And Thor had grown up expecting his brother to be at his side on that day, supporting him.

 _My wife is going to have a baby very soon_ , Thor wants to tell him. _You have to get well again so that you can meet your niece. Please…_

But he cannot say that. His life in Asgard and his weekly visits here to Loki seem to exist in completely separate worlds.

"You _know_ the things that you see are not real," Thor sighs. "Mother is gone. Father is gone."

Loki begins to tremble, his breathing is stuttered, yet he will not make eye contact.

"I killed them," he confesses in a hollow voice.

Thor frowns. This is new, whatever it is. "No, brother," he says firmly, cupping Loki's face and forcing him to meet his gaze. " _Malekith_ killed our mother. Remember? _You_ were locked in a cell, far away. You had nothing to do with it. She fell in battle, and then you helped me to avenge her. Yes?"

Before Loki can argue, Thor adds, "And Father died of natural causes. It was no one's fault."

But Loki twists out of Thor's grip and mutters again and again, "I killed them. As surely as if I held the knife myself, I killed them."

He's shivering, and does not even seem to notice his brother's arms wrapping around his shoulders. Thor wills him to calm down.

 _I love you, you infuriating, frustrating little brother. Please understand that._

Eventually, Loki's ragged breathing slows, and he quiets, laying his ear against Thor's chest as if his heartbeat is soothing him. Thor wonders if he will drift off to sleep like this.

Then Loki's eyes snap open again.

"Brother…what if we could return to the beginning? What if things could be as they were before?"

Thor is not certain what _before_ Loki means. Before his mind fractured and cracked to pieces? Before he was imprisoned in the dungeons, before he repaid Thor's trust with a knife in his side? Before he rejected all attempts at reconciliation?

Before he sought death in the blackness of the Void? Before he learned the truth of his blood?

Before the seeds of jealousy and rivalry sprang up like weeds between them?

Thor does not know how far back they would have to go, to untangle the mess of their lives. But he is certain of one thing.

"It isn't possible, Loki," he murmurs, running his fingers through the ends of Loki's hair. "We cannot repeat the past."

To his surprise, Loki gives a small laugh, shaking his head.

"Of course we can."

Sleepily, he curls closer and lays his head on Thor's shoulder, yawning. "Will you stay in my room tonight, Thor?" he asks suddenly, in a very different voice. "I want the bad dreams to go away. Mama won't mind, will she?"

His inflections are childish–disconcerting in an adult voice–and the request is one he used to make, long ago, in the years after they'd been moved out of their nursery into separate chambers.

Barely able to speak from the lump in his throat, Thor nods jerkily.

"I'll stay, brother. Just for tonight."


End file.
